


Perfection

by fakescorpion (SiZodiac)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Free Will, Moral Ambiguity, Other, Parent/Child Incest, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Stream of Consciousness, Symbiotic Relationship, Trueform, Underage Kissing, Vessel Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiZodiac/pseuds/fakescorpion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late season7. Jimmy asks why Castiel is so unwilling to forgive the mistakes he made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfection

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> _To err is human..._

Time is a fickle thing when dreaming in oblivion.

Sometimes, Jimmy thinks, he sees a glimpse of his heaven.

He’s thirteen when he opens his eyes, it is Halloween, and he’s dressed as a traditional shepherd because his family has always been religious and mother loves seeing him in a semblance of Christian robe. And Allison is in front of him, donning in a cute white frock and stockings and fluffy wings, and in a relatively seclude corridor of the Calderons’ huge house, she is kissing him chastely on the mouth.

The halo made from silver tinsels above Allison’s head is a bit sloping to the side, and in danger of poking Jimmy in the eye. But this moment, it is the least of his concerns because he is kissing a girl, and his breathings are coming up short and shallow, and Jimmy has to hold tight onto his cane to keep his whole body from shaking too much.

Then somebody has to round the corner and sees them together, and that is when the catcalls from their friends start. And Allison pulls away first, a secretive smile on her lips, and Jimmy is still feeling dazed.

Reality shifts just slightly.

And Jimmy sees an otherworldly glint in Allison’s eyes that isn’t there seconds before, and it is so beatific and immensely more glorious. He is still thirteen and dressed as a shepherd, but now Jimmy also remembers being thirty-four and Castiel is in front of him with a pair of stuffed white wings and a silly artificial halo. And he can’t help but pull him-- her-- back into his embrace and presses her up against the nearest wall to ravish her mouth with a decidedly unchaste kiss.

The hall is quiet the instant he is made aware, the projections from his memory all but vanish as the cane in his hand falls onto the ground with an echo, and Castiel patiently reacts for him to satisfy his needs.

This is the most wondrous and the sickest moment of their relationship.

 

Time is a fickle thing when dreaming while awake.

Sometimes, Jimmy thinks, he sees a glimpse of the real world.

And more and more often, his heart breaks at what he is forced to witness.

_I’m sorry, Dean._

The same words, rewind and replay, again and again. And angels have eidetic memory, illusive shackles that never let them forget.

 

 

 

Time is a fickle thing when dreaming in oblivion.

“Do you love me, Jimmy?”

The second time he gives consent to being in angelic possession, Castiel asks, because Jimmy is giving up the greatest birthright of all humans and that is the claim to choice and to freedom.

“It would hurt a lot less if you do.”

And soon, Jimmy realizes that Castiel is not kidding. He already gets the impression that the angel has been actively trying to seduce him in the past, and has pretty much succeeded he may add, but now that Cas stops holding back, Jimmy can understand why even though angels never lie about their intentions for their vessels, most people still agree to be tortured as angelic hosts anyways.

“You are my sword, you belonged to me now,” Castiel whispers in a quiet voice, lips lush and full tickling his ear lobe. Because Jimmy is nineteen and is still a virgin, and Castiel is wearing Amelia’s pretty face and blond hair and curvy body in his remembrance. “You are mine.”

And Jimmy blushes, his body almost trembling as he tries in vain to calm down while intense lust rushes through his bloodstream. “Yes, C-Castiel. I am yours,” he says as he buries himself into the crook of his angel’s neck.

He never accidentally calls the wrong name, no matter what visage Castiel appears in, because Jimmy understands that he doesn’t get to love anyone else now, not since he surrenders his will to the celestial creature that will take him for eternity. And Castiel runs her hand soothingly through his hair, a slow procedure to strip away his identity.

 

Time is a fickle thing when dreaming while awake.

Castiel lies in the middle of a large abandoned field, with flowers and tall grass falling over his face, his eyes follow the invisible paths of the bees. “I love you, Jimmy,” he says, smiling at nothing.

And Jimmy’s heart breaks a little more. Because it does not count; because Castiel is desperate enough to say that to anyone who stays at this point; because everyone else has left, but his vessel cannot abandon him, too.

 

 

 

Time is a fickle thing when dreaming in oblivion.

“Why do you choose to appear to me as Claire?”

Castiel looks down at her tiny hands, inspecting her many delicate fingers. “I did not,” she says, looking back up and catching Jimmy’s eyes as she crawls over his body and straddles his waist, “You did.”

“I did?” Jimmy asks, surprised and a little distraught. “I-I really don’t want to believe that I have any hidden perverted thoughts about my daughter that I wasn’t even aware of…”

“No, you misunderstood me,” Castiel replies, slightly amused at the reaction from her human host. “This image,” she places a hand over her chest and gestures at herself, “is what you considered perfection.”

And Castiel leans over to kiss Jimmy on his forehead and eyes and lips, and Jimmy whimpers softly as desires numb his senses, holding her small form close as his angel sings about her devotion and passion and love.

(Perfection, they say, is angels’ blessing.)

(Because no human is perfect, and can only gaze at them with longing.)

 

Time is a fickle thing when dreaming while awake.

Now Castiel sings about his regret and pain and repentance.

“Stop it, Cas! Please, stop!” Jimmy cries, covering his metaphorical ears as if it would be enough to block out an angel’s cross-dimensional songs. “It’s not your fault!”

“No. I do not deserve forgiveness, from you… nor from any others.”

“Why?” Jimmy vehemently disagrees, “Dean cracked the first seal and Sam cracked the last, they broke the world first and you are just trying to fix their mistakes. And then you messed up, but big deal, they get to have second chances so why shouldn’t you?”

“This is different. Not like Dean, not like Sam…” Castiel explains, he interlaces their fingers as he looks up at the clear blue sky, the touch is somehow intimate, and Jimmy can almost feel the spiritual misery from his angel, “Please understand. Humans are allowed to err and mistake; we, as angels, are not.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You must recognize that this is the reason Father made humans flawed and grant you the privilege to free will,” Castiel says, impassive yet infinitely sad, and the hand now moves to press gently against their shared beating heart, “Humanity’s failings can be forgiven, but the same cannot be applied to us, as imperfection is a crime punishable only by death to the heavenly.”

Jimmy wants to argue, but now he thinks of all the verbal lashes Castiel has endured from the human charges his angel assigned for himself. And the double standards that Castiel takes and takes and never complains because it is ingrained so deeply into his psyche from the moment of his existence that this is the way things are meant to be.

Because humans are so special and so entitled, and the angels are not even allowed to know any better.

So Jimmy weeps, because reality is so unfair and nobody can possibly understand that apart from the other vessels like himself, who have also signed away their own free will. And he weeps some more, because in spite of this, Castiel still can only tilt his head in genuine confusion at his sorrow.

Not even allowed to know any better.

(Perfection, they say, is angels’ curse.)

(Because no being is perfect, even for them, yet it is their burden to bear.)

 

 

 

Time and existence and reality and dreams and oblivions all blend together.

Jimmy says, “Castiel, thank you.”

And his angel is very puzzled, “… for what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Because from the moment angels bend their knees to humanity under command, their servitude has been taken for granted. Castiel understands it and accepts it, and the truth is right there, that it takes so very little for angels to be happy.

All they wish for is, maybe, a little gratitude.

Yet only a rare few has ever seen an angel truly smile… for only a rare few has ever bothered to offer, a small simple ‘thank you’.

Castiel smiles, sad and beautiful.

 

Time and existence and reality and dreams and oblivions all blend together.

Jimmy is dressed as a shepherd and Castiel has a pair of fluffy white wings and a silver halo. They are thirteen and they kiss in the abstract of their shared subconscious and Jimmy impatiently acts out to satisfy his angel’s needs.

This is the most wondrous and the sickest moment of their relationship.

Because Jimmy gets to pretend to almost kiss the angel he loves.  
… And because Castiel gets to pretend to almost kiss the Father he loves, but will never meet.

Jimmy tastes the hint of heaven and divine and happiness.  
… And Castiel, maybe, can delude himself into tasting the redemption he seeks, but will never find.

 

 

 

Castiel does not cry.

And so, Jimmy always does it for him, shedding the many many unshed tears.

 

(Perfection, angels’ commitment.)

(And for them, the very concept is their crucifix.)

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
